"You're eighteen," I remind her.
She stalks toward me with her hands on her hips. "What makes you so knowing at your ripe old age of twenty-one? Have you seen the world? Know all the answers to every question? Or are you just a little too cocky for your own good, maybe?" For someone who seemed so interested in me yesterday, there's been a significant switch in her attitude. Clearly, I've pissed her off, but I haven't said anything I don't mean, and I haven't said anything without reason or knowledge to back it up.
"Don't you think you should be getting home before you get caught?" I tell her.
"You don't need to worry about me like I'm some lost kid, okay?" she says.
I close more of the space between us, stepping into the moonlight where I can see her better. "I never thought of you as a kid, Haven, but maybe you should consider yourself lucky for having the life you have. It may not be what you want, but you're fed, clothed, and I'm sure your parents care about you a little."
"Again," she shouts. "Who the hell are you to say this to me?" Why is she so upset? I get it. She doesn't want to act the role of the mayor's daughter, but she's taking it a little far.
"Fine," I tell her. She looks surprised to hear me give in. I lift my hands up in front of me, defensively. "I'm going to let you be alone with your thoughts. As much as I'd prefer that you don't stand here in a park alone, I know when I'm doing more damage than good."
“Good. Thank you!” She clasps her hands together as if she were pretending to be grateful. “Good God,” she mutters.
She’s driving me crazy. I grab her wrist and pull her back into me as I press my lips against her ear and whisper, “Oh, and next time you come looking for me, don’t wear that goddamn, hot as hell, red lipstick. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” I release her hand and turn back toward the street, already feeling a sense of guilt for leaving her here, but I can’t force her to listen. All I can do is hope is that nothing happens to her tonight, and if it does, no one saw that I was the last person with her.
